Read Village E3: Survival of the Human Spirit for Free Online Page A

increasingly larger pieces of wood until he had a raging
fire going.
    Even though John had enough water for
the day, he liked to stay on top of his supply, so he got his pot ready to
fill. Keeping hydrated, and getting as much to eat as he could, occupied most
of his time. Taking his cooking pot with him, he walked over to the pool. This was
a trip he had made hundreds of times, always wishing his pot was bigger.
Returning with his full pot, he deftly placed it over the fire, being careful
to make sure it didn't tip over. His fruit supply was getting low, so after
boiling some water, he planned to look for fruit. He knew of about a half dozen
trees that he visited regularly and today he was going to start with the
closest.
    As his water boiled, John drank some out
of the supply in his plastic water container. He drank what he thought was
enough to make room for the water he had on the fire. As soon as the water
began to boil, he removed it from the rocks it was sitting on. While it cooled,
he walked to his hut and got his knife and spear. Each move in the morning was
something he did almost exactly the same way, day after day, week after week,
month after month.
    One thing about this type of living
was that there was never a day off. A day off might mean not having enough
water, a fire, or something to eat. He bent over to check the temperature of
the water. It was still too hot. When he straightened up, his boxers slipped,
going down about half way on his butt cheeks before he caught them. He had gone
a couple of days without them, but he still wasn't ready to do that full time.
    Growing impatient to get started,
John decided to drink the water in his pot when he got back from gathering
fruit. He grabbed his spear in one hand and picked up his shirt and knife with
the other. He usually used his shirt to carry things in. The closest tree was
to the north, so he headed in that direction, which was about a twenty minute
walk.
    His walks through the jungle were
different than when he first arrived. Now his moves are more calculated,
because he is no longer just an observer, he was
part of this place. Like it or not, he was part of the jungle, and it had
become part of him. Looking ahead, from side to side, and occasionally behind
him, he made slow progress toward his destination. His skin was darkened from
sun exposure, with smudges of dirt and grime here and there, allowing him to
blend in with his surroundings much better than when he was pearly white and
clean.
    About halfway there, John paused for a short break, wiping some sweat from his
forehead. Without warning, a sharp pain surged from the front of his head to
the back. He had felt that pain once before, but this time it was worse. He
dropped his things and grabbed his head with both hands. The pain was intense,
but short. When it subsided, he picked up his things, and without even giving
it a thought, took a right turn toward the beach.
    He walked about twenty feet before he
even realized he was walking away from where he planned to go. He was aware of
the direction he was heading, but strangely, he had no desire to change
direction, as he picked up his pace.
    Once John reached the beach, he stood
there much like a person does when they walk into a room, and forgot what they
went there for. He started to walk south along the beach. When on the beach, it
was a habit now for John to look for anything that might be useful. Scanning
from side to side, what he saw next almost didn't register at first. It was
something he'd seen many times, but not here.
    Foot prints....there were real foot
prints. It wasn't just one set of prints, but it looked like two. I'm not
alone. What does this mean, he wondered. How many people are
here? Maybe there is a village. I hope they have food, he thought. Like the
day he arrived, his mind was full of questions and thoughts.
    With excitement, John looked up
ahead, and saw nobody in sight. The shoreline had a curve to it that he
couldn't see